It's sometimes surprising what can make a memory from years ago rise to the surface. Recently a couple of riders and their horses were trotting round the block. When we went walk-about there was the evidence in the road:
What strong memory can possibly be associated with a pile of horse dung?
One Summer near the start of the 1950s I was sent to stay with my maternal grandmother and great grandmother. A decision I liked as I generally enjoyed visiting there. The only thing I didn't take kindly to was one particular chore I had to carry out. Milk and coal, as with many other products, was delivered by horse and cart. After they had visited I would be given a hand shovel and bucket and sent out to collect the still steaming piles of horse manure. Why? Granny would transfer it to a sack which was dangling in an old oak water butt. The resulting manured water being used to feed her roses.
Oh and no. I wasn't tempted to repeat the exercise this year.
Plenty to shift up here John. You could have lots of memories.
ReplyDeleteAdrian: I'll pass on that thanks all the same.
DeleteI'll take picking up horse manure over picking up dog any day!!
ReplyDeleteBettina: Thank you for visiting and leaving a comment. At least the horse manure has a use.
Delete